Boulevard of broken dreams
by Lady3jane
Summary: "Arya's clients invariably had a sleazy, devious look about them, but Gendry Waters didn't seem to be her usual type of client. He was hard, she could see that. He had steel in him that didn't come from being raised in privilege, with the safety net of old money. She looked at his charge sheet. No previous. Why was he here?"...A one shot AU for the DRUG prompt on AryaxGendry week.


**Boulevard of Broken Dreams**

She blew into the Police Station, trying to juggle her briefcase, bag, dripping umbrella and her stinking hangover.

"What have you got for me?"

The Duty Officer cocked one eyebrow at her from behind his screen.

"Rough night Miss Stark?"

"Just tell me why I'm here."

The Police Officer flicked through his paperwork.

"You'll like this one" he smirked.

Arya knew from previous experience that smirk wasn't a good sign. Usually it meant some drunk, reeking of piss and puke or some junkie on the come-down. She winced at the thought. She'd done a few lines herself last night and was suffering a come-down of her own. Fuck this Duty Solicitor rota. The Trainee always got the shitty end of the stick and it would be another 4 months before Lannister Law took on another one. Only then would she finally get to step up from the bottom rung of the career ladder. Then she'd take great delight in phoning the new trainee at 7am on a Saturday morning and telling them to get themselves down to the cells ASAP.

"His name is Gendry Waters, picked up last night for assault. Put the other guy in the hospital. They might do your man for attempted murder" the cop leered, relishing the thought of another of his 'customers' being locked up for a very long time.

Arya's ears pricked up. Attempted murders were money spinners for Lannister Law. Tywin and Jaime liked money spinners and she liked to keep the bosses happy.

"I'll have him brought up from the cells for you."

She sat down to wait, wearing yesterday's suit, longing for her own bed. Every part of her ached, as if she had flu. She sniffed and searched for a handkerchief. She had none, so she sniffed again.

_Fucking coke._

She promised herself never again, but she'd been saying that every Monday morning since she started at Lannisters.

_Fucking Jaime Lannister._

He was the golden boy in every way – the blonde haired son of the big boss, a shit hot defence lawyer, achingly good looking and he damn well knew it. As usual, Friday drinks after work turned into a party at Casterly Rock. It had been made pretty clear to her that, if she wanted to get on at Lannister Law, she would be expected to socialise with the other Lawyers and favoured clients when required, which seemed to be most weekends, every one of them awash with cocaine.

Not only that, as the Trainee, she was still expected to fulfil her employer's obligations on the Duty Solicitor's rota. Lannister Law didn't normally deal with this sort of common clientele, but as the most respected firm in Westeros (for 'most respected' read - _most expensive and best at exploiting every legal loophole in order to get their clients off_) they liked to be seen to be doing their bit for the community. This meant taking their turn with the other, less significant, law firms to represent the scum who had the misfortune to be picked up at the weekend by Westeros' finest boys in blue.

"Hey Miss Stark!" the Duty Officer called after her as she trudged towards the interview room.

"What?" she snapped, turning around. "Enjoy!" he winked. She cursed him under her breath. This must be a right stinker.

One of the younger cops she recognised from school was waiting outside the interview room. "Christ! Look at the state of you. What did you get up to last night?"

"Wouldn't you like to know" she sneered. "Just let me in. I want to get home sometime today."

"Ok, ok, someone got out of bed on the wrong side this morning."

Not just the wrong _side_ of bed. _The wrong fucking bed_.

The door was unlocked for her and she dumped her briefcase on the table, searching around in her raincoat pocket for her cigarettes before she even bothered with the client. Only when she'd found her fags and her lighter, did she collapse onto the cheap plastic chair and look across the table.

Shit! She sat up a bit straighter. This wasn't her usual calibre of client. Even with a night's stubble on his chin and a pissed off expression, he was fucking gorgeous. Not in that smooth, male-model, Jaime Lannister way, but in a dark, brooding, dangerous way that made it difficult for her to maintain eye contact. In eight months she'd never had one client she considered even remotely attractive, but Mr Gendry Waters made up for that and then some. Wait until the girls in the office got a load of him. The Duty Officer's comments and winks now made sense.

She lit her cigarette, glad she had something to occupy her hands and her eyes, giving her a little time to compose herself before she had to look at him again. Yep. Still fucking gorgeous; she hadn't been hallucinating.

She offered him one and sniffed again.

He looked even more pissed off. "I don't smoke and shouldn't you have asked me if I mind before you lit one up?"

His voice was deep, his pale blue eyes cold as ice water. Her stomach flipped.

She exhaled quickly, turning her head slightly, blowing the smoke out of the corner of her mouth, away from him. He still looked disgusted.

"Never had a client that minded before." She muttered.

"Well you've got one now."

She reluctantly took a final drag and stubbed it out.

"Nobody ever tell you those things will kill you?"

"Gotta die of something" she sniffed, opening her briefcase and bringing out her forms. Attending to business was a welcome distraction from his piercing eyes, eyes that were doing things to her that she didn't want to be happening in a police interview room with a coke come-down.

He stood up and dug around in the pocket of his jeans. She noticed how tall he was and that his jeans were faded but clean, tight across chunky thighs and a bulging crotch which was now enticingly at eye level. He produced a flat, ironed, square of white cotton and held it out to her.

"Use this."

She was going to refuse, but as if to punctuate his request, she had to sniff again.

_Fucking coke_.

She took his handkerchief and their fingertips touched briefly, making her shiver. She jerked her hand away, shocked that such glancing contact from a stranger could have so much of an effect on her. He was staring at her, his expression unfathomable.

She tried to dab at her nose in a delicate, ladylike fashion, but it was no use. She had to blow. She briefly worried that some of last night's lines were going to make a reappearance in her client's handkerchief.

"Keep it." He growled. Was he looking at her suspiciously? She averted her eyes. Could he tell what she'd been up to the night before? God, she was getting paranoid now. This payback was a bitch.

"So what did you do to get yourself in here?" she drawled as she began filling in the forms – another excuse not to look at him.

He didn't answer, forcing her to look up again into those icy eyes.

Her clients invariably had a sleazy, devious look about them, but Gendry Waters didn't seem to be her usual type of client. He was hard, she could see that. He had steel in him that didn't come from being raised in privilege, with the safety net of old money. He wasn't like her and all of her friends. He'd seen a few things she was sure, but she saw strength and determination in those cold, blue eyes, rather than aggression or cunning.

She looked at his charge sheet. No previous. Why was he here?

"Do I _have_ to tell you?" he asked eventually.

"Only if you want to get out of here."

Finally, she felt as if she had the upper hand. He was uncertain, unsure of the procedure and he _needed_ her. She had to stifle a smile. She liked that he was cold and hard, but suddenly vulnerable.

"Ok… I beat a guy up last night."

She wrote that down. "Use a weapon?"

Again no answer. She looked up. He was staring at his hands. They were big and strong, like the rest of him. She'd noticed his shirt sleeves drawn tight over his biceps.

"Only these." He said slowly, flexing his fingers.

"They don't count…unless you're some kind of martial arts expert. Are you?"

"No."

"Great. Know the victim?" She didn't have anything else to write, so had to look up from her papers again. He was glaring angrily at her. Her stomach did that flip thing again.

"Believe me, he's no 'victim'. He deserved what he got from me and a hell of a lot more."

"Let's stick to the facts shall we Mr Waters? Did he hit you first?"

"No."

She sighed. "So we can't plead self defence and I hear you put the other guy…" she checked the charge sheet again for the victim's name, "…Petyr Baelish, in the hospital. You wanna tell me why?"

Arya studied her client's face as she waited for his response, watching the muscles in his jaw clench and unclench. Strands of thick, black hair fell over his forehead. His eyes were downcast, focused on his hands again, fingers thick and strong, hands clean, but not too clean. That looked like engine oil engrained in the calluses. One set of knuckles was skinned red, but other than that, she couldn't see any signs that he'd been in a fight. He must be pretty handy if the other guy was in the hospital. She found herself wondering if he was handy in any other ways.

"He's my sister's pimp." Gendry Waters said quietly.

Arya's eyebrows shot up. She hadn't expected that.

He looked up, pain and desperation filling those blue eyes.

"I should say…my half sister…Bella. She's had a hard life..." He inhaled slowly and paused, looking at Arya as if weighing her up, deciding how much to tell her. She willed him to continue. Normally she couldn't give a shit about why her clients did what they did, but she found herself wanting to know more about him.

He exhaled slowly then explained,

"She's a junkie. In deep. I got her a place in rehab, day before yesterday. I basically kidnapped her. You wanna hear that?" he wondered, staring at her with those wide, hurting, blue eyes.

She did. She wanted to hear _all_ about it, but not here.

"Just tell me about the assault."

"So this sleazy little shitbag…"

"Mr Baelish?" she interrupted. He glowered. Her stomach did its flip thing.

"Yeah him. He came looking for her, wanted her 'back where she belonged' he said."

Gendry Waters shook his head, grimacing at the memory, before he continued bitterly, "He was the one got her hooked in the first place. He finds these girls; pretty, vulnerable and young…always young… and he offers them a job in his 'club'. To begin with they're waitresses and the money's great. He finds them a place to stay, he's not only their employer, he's their best friend. Then he gives them a little something to help them through, to take the edge off. It's on the house to begin with, it's a party. You know…everyone's happy."

Arya thought of herself last night, partying with the Lannisters at Casterly Rock.

"Yeah I know." She said softly.

"By the time he remembers to mention there's rent to be paid, they're hooked and they owe him. _They owe him big_. But they've not to worry; there's a way they can make him happy and it's quick and it's easy…"

Arya remembered Jaime Lannister and how he'd sat down beside her last night and run his hand up her thigh and how she'd been too coked up to really notice, or to be more accurate, to care. She'd been partying too, hadn't she? She cringed as she remembered how he'd leaned in close, smelling of expensive aftershave and old money, how he'd brushed her hair away with a soft hand before pressing his smooth cheek against hers, how he'd murmured that the best way to get on in Lannister Law was to make him happy. She felt sick.

She looked across the table at Gendry Waters and saw a brother desperate to save his sister and a man who was prepared to fight for a woman he loved.

"Come on. Let's get you out of here."

He looked bewildered. "But they told me I was in here until court on Monday."

She stood up, stuffing her papers back into her briefcase. "I'll arrange bail as long as you undertake to appear."

"How do they know I'll not disappear?"

"They don't, but I do. You'll not leave your sister will you?"

"No."

"Come on then."

Soon they were standing outside the Police Station in the rain. It was still only 9am on a sodden, winter, Saturday morning.

"I should thank you…"

"Just be there on time, ok?"

"I will." He vowed.

She knew he would.

He turned up the collar on his coat and walked out into the driving rain. She stood and watched him walk away. He looked like an old photo she'd seen of James Dean. She didn't know why she remembered, but she knew it was called 'Boulevard of broken dreams'.

Her car was parked in the opposite direction.

She hesitated. She had a choice. She'd always had a choice.

"Mr Waters!" she yelled. He never heard her, her voice carried away by the wind and the rain.

She hesitated again. Then she made her decision. No more drugs. No more Lannisters. No more broken dreams.

She opened her umbrella and ran after him.

**Yeah I know, I've not finished either Wolf's Helmet or Sansa – The Mother, but what can I say? It's Arya Gendry week. I saw the prompt and had an idea. Parts this are autobiographical, but I'm going to leave you guessing as to which parts…**


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